I don’t even smoke
It seems fitting though
After tapas and beer on your patio
Ending the night with loose lips
And tight throats
My tongue on your lobe while
You’re exhaling ash and I’m
Removing my clothes
Your mouth speaking words
I don’t even know
My voice a hoarse whisper
When I say “Dímelo.”

3AM Thoughts // AKA “I’m Lost In Translation But I Love It.”